


you're my favorite part of waking up

by breakeven



Series: little things. [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Pet Names, Praise Kink, The greatest pun ever., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, duh i'm the author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 21:09:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7137209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakeven/pseuds/breakeven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky really wouldn’t be exaggerating if he were to say that Steve, right now, lying in their bed with his sun bleached hair mussed and soft, breathing deeply and comfortably, looks totally and completely angelic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're my favorite part of waking up

**Author's Note:**

> This is just fluff that I wrote in like an hour so please enjoy. Also, title from the song "Marguerite" by Made in Heights. All of my titles come from songs, idk if you all knew that. Anyway, here.

Bucky really wouldn’t be exaggerating if he were to say that Steve, right now, lying in their bed with his sun bleached hair mussed and soft, breathing deeply and comfortably, looks totally and completely angelic. Because it’s true, he does. His skin looks softer in this light, smoother and younger. His face is relaxed, like a child with nothing to worry about, and it fills some strange, burning void in Bucky’s chest to see him like this, so at peace. He hates that this job, this person Steve has been forced to become, takes so much from him and gives so little, but he also knows that no other man on earth would be fit to do it, and so he lives every day knowing that Captain America is both good and evil, in regards to Steve Rogers, and there’s nothing he can do to protect him from that. Moments like these though, they make that knowledge almost worth it. Moments like these make Bucky wish he had Steve’s gift for drawing, because he wants to capture this and put it away to remember when things get bad. This feeling, this sight, this life he’s somehow managed to build with this beautiful creature, crafted from light and everything right in this world, deserves to be forever immortalized on paper, but this time the right way. Not by historians speculating, but by Bucky who _knows_ that there’s no way any human on earth has done anything to deserve Steven Rogers.

“You’re starin’ again,” Steve grumbles quietly, without opening his eyes or even moving his face from its place mashed into a pillow. Bucky, propped up on his left arm, because it never gets tired of holding him up and he never gets tired of this, just barely smiles.

“I’ll stop,” he says, still staring.

Steve, who loves the attention and cannot fool Bucky, just hums noncommittally, “You won’t, but that’s okay. It wasn’t a complaint.”

“Oh, I know it wasn’t, you lush, I was just humorin’ you,” Bucky laughs softly, and Steve laughs too, and his nose scrunches up with it. Bucky is immediately reminded of him as a child, before he was weighed down by anything, let alone the weight of the world.

Steve opens his eyes, finally, “Lush,” he snorts and rolls over onto his back completely. He’s wearing this hideous brown shirt that’s faded and worn to nearly bare thread, there are stretches and holes in the collar, and Bucky wants to throw it away more than anything, but Steve is strangely attached to it. His briefs hug his dick and thighs very nicely. So nicely, in fact, that Bucky has no qualms about admiring this view lewdly.

Snorting again, Steve rubs a hand over his head tiredly, making his hair dance around his head in a messy blonde halo, “You’re a pervert,” he mutters. Bucky smiles some more. Steve’s morning voice is gorgeous; Bucky thinks he sounds like a fucking symphony or some shit when he wakes up. He sounds soft, he sounds like he’s all talked out, like he’s willing to finally just sit in silence for a while, and Bucky loves it so much. Because Steve is never done talking, he’s never done saying what needs to be said, but in the morning, he’s so sweet and easy that he may just listen to the words coming out of someone else’s mouth. Bucky loves him.

“True,” he agrees. They lie in silence for a few crystal clear seconds before Bucky sighs and goes to stand up. Steve’s pretty much useless in the morning until after he’s had an entire pot of coffee and a run, and Bucky,- well Bucky definitely has no problem indulging him. He’s just pulled on a pair of joggers and is halfway to the door when Steve worms his way through their nest of blankets to the foot of the bed, and reaches an arm out towards Bucky.

Whining, he says, “Don’t go,” his voice a gentle scrape in the air.

“You don’t want coffee?” Bucky asks, genuinely curious. Steve isn’t one to pass on a cuppa, even if it means losing Bucky’s body to the frigid landscape of the penthouse.

“Want you to stay.”

Sighing, as if put upon, “You want me to _stay_ ?” he gasps in fake exasperation, “Stay _here_ in this warm bed with the sexiest man alive? That’s a steep demand there doll,” and he steps closer to the bed so that Steve can wrap his grasping fingers around his wrist tightly.

With the most heartbreaking pout America, and possibly the world, has ever seen Steve nods, “Yeah Buck, _stay_ ,” he pleads and well. Self denial is so 1940s.

So he lets himself be dragged back into the bed, kneeling first on the mattress in front of Steve and bending down to kiss his forehead, and then the both of them are crawling backwards towards the headboard, giggling gently to one another. A blush is already creeping its way up Steve’s neck, burning a pathway down his chest too, Bucky knows, in a splotchy, beautiful pattern.

Their lips meet in sweet, hard presses as Steve lets himself be guided by Bucky’s insistent hands. Eventually, when neither of them can be made to scoot any more, wanting to focus solely on one another, Steve lays himself out on his back, all saccharine rolling muscle and panting breaths.

“Look at you,” he breathes in wonder, watching Steve get even more flustered. He’s the easiest thing in the world when he’s like this; he’s slack jawed and in the moment, not thinking about anything other than pleasure and Bucky loves seeing him like this.

“When you’re done lookin’ you think you might wanna _touch_ too?” Steve snarks and rolls his hips up in search of friction. Bucky kneels over him so that his knees bracket those thighs and he smirks down at the man under him.

“Oh I’m gonna do a helluva lot more than _touch_ , doll,” he husks, dropping his voice, eliciting a shudder from Steve.

He leans back down to kiss Steve again, this time dragged in by the tight grip Steve has on the hair at the nape of his neck, and their mouths meet with a slick glide. Bucky nibbles on his bottom lip, soothes with his tongue, and Steve lets out a quiet moan of approval, grinding their hips together harshly. His hands are everywhere; in Bucky’s hair, on his shoulders, cupping his face, dragging him closer and against him harder by his ass, and Bucky lets him while they go at it like this.

“C’mon Buck,” Steve gasps against his lips impatiently, “c’mon- fuck- please,” he begs, getting his hands under the waistline of his sweats and shoving them down his ass. Bucky’s cock is already rock hard, dripping a little even, but he loves dragging it out like this so Steve can get really desperate, so he stops the hands on him and pins them above their heads.

“You’ll get it doll,” he promises, “don’t you worry,” and with that his right hand is tugging those tight little briefs off of Steve’s wriggling body, watching his cock spring free. He’s got the prettiest dick Bucky’s ever seen, long and nicely thick with a little curve to it that always gives him a little challenge deep throating. Steve gets so damn wet with want, he’s always leaking like a fucking faucet when he’s about to get fucked, and Bucky really just can’t help himself, so as soon as Steve’s underwear are around his ankles, Bucky’s hand is gripping Steve’s length in his hand and giving him one luxurious stroke so that his hand’s covered in the copious amount of precome Steve’s already released. He opens his mouth and makes a big show out of licking it off of his palm, making Steve groan and thrust his hips reflexively. And he’s so fucking responsive, he’s always so ready.

“Bucky,” he breathes in plea. The soft morning light drifting in through the curtains has his eyes looking like cracked bits of seaglass, and the blush adorning his gorgeous pale skin is only getting deeper and deeper.

“That’s me,” he quips.

Steve sucks his teeth in fond annoyance, “Shut up and kiss me,” so Bucky hops to it.

Stripping them both off is easy, Bucky does so efficiently, and he doesn’t know if it’s the early hour or what, but they barely make any noise. Every once in a while Steve will offer up a little moan or squeak (that he’ll later deny) when Bucky does something he particularly like, and maybe Bucky himself will grunt or chuckle, but other than that and their steady panting, the room is silent. Once they’re both totally naked and attached firmly at the lips, Bucky wraps his hand around Steve’s cock again, this time for more than just a show. Steve’s hips jerk into the touch, he’s so damn sensitive all the time, and Bucky lets him thrust leisurely, not chasing orgasm but enjoying the friction to the best of his ability. His legs are around Bucky’s waist, holding him close, and Bucky finds his own friction in the crease of Steve’s hip where he grinds his own dick until there’s a pretty impressive pool of precome gathering there.

“More please,” Steve sighs, breaking away from the kiss. This isn’t really about teasing him so Bucky pulls away and reaches under his own pillow for the lube and dribbles some onto his fingers.

“Yeah?” he says while rubbing a gentle circle around the soft, pink furl of muscle. Steve’s already trying thrust back onto them, to get them inside the way he wants so badly, but Bucky pinches the globe of his ass cheek in warning.

“ _Please_ Bucky,” he whines, wiggling his ass enticingly.

Bucky, both unbelievably endeared and so turned on he can barely think, laughs, “Be good, doll,” he admonishes, much to Steve’s chagrin.

“I _am_ being good. _You’re_ being a tease,” he complains, making Bucky smirk, “Please just-,” and he’s cut off mid-sentence as he has two fingers thrust into his hole with a wet squelch from the lube.

Bucky smirks at him, “That good enough for ya?”

Steve glares, “Was it worth the wait? I dunno, but you sure can try to make it worth my while.”

And Bucky can’t have him this coherent so he presses his two fingers in to the knuckle, and starts fucking Steve real deep and slow the way he loves and hates. He plants his feet firmly on the mattress and rocks himself into Bucky’s fingers, undulating his hips as he tries to catch Bucky’s fingers on his prostate and Bucky lets him because he wants to watch. The flex and give of Steve’s muscles is mesmerizing and it really can’t be helped if Bucky leans forwards a drags the tip of his tongue over them reverently, nipping and sucking at the taut skin there happily, tasting and enjoying the man under him. Steve lets out a sated little moan at the feeling, so Bucky continues his ministrations upwards, sucking at his pecs and biting tiny rosebud nipples before soothing over the brief hurt with his mouth. He adds a third finger just as he reaches Steve’s jaw, sucking a dark mark there that literally fades away as Bucky pulls away to look him in the eye.

“How’s that baby?” he husks, “That feel good?”

Still rocking his hips, Steve nods, “Real good Buck,” he grins dopily, “Feels real good.”

When he’s properly stretched, Bucky takes some initiative he doesn’t usually take, and slicks his cock up with lube _before_ Steve can start begging. He looks down at the perfection splayed in front of him, like splattered paint, like a Picasso made of sheets and skin red bitten lips, and he has to smile because there’s no way on earth he deserves this, and he’s just gotten away with robbery. Steve smiles too, like he knows, and his own eyes are hooded and unable to really focus on anything. This is everything. Bucky says, “Ready, yeah?” as the head of his dick kisses that slick, open hole and Steve says “Yeah, yes,” and he thrusts home is on solid, steady movement. Once he sinks home he grinds his hips in a dirty little circle and Steve cries out with this gorgeous, high pitched little gasp, his lips forming a beautiful, succulent _o_ shape. He does it again, just to be sure, and gets the same reaction, so smirking, he leans over onto his elbows over Steve, kisses that dropped open, awestruck mouth of his, and moves his hips so that his cock is almost completely out of him before fucking back into him.

“Oh _shit_ ,” Steve spits passionately, “ _Shit_!” when Bucky does it again.

“You’re so good, doll,” Bucky pants, “So fucking good. So sweet like this, takin’ my cock so well.”

Steve shudders, moans, shakes, especially when Bucky’s cock hits that lightning bolt bundle of nerves inside of him, his thighs positively shaking with the force of how good it feels, “Oh hell Buck, y-you’re gonna _kill_ me,” he groans. Bucky laughs a little.

They fuck like that for what seems like forever; Steve on his back, thighs clenched around Bucky’s waist like a goddamned vice, and Bucky himself on his forearms, hovering over Steve and watching his face as he starts to speed up his strokes. He watches the crease between brows deepen, the bead of sweat on his neck that follows a sinewy road of muscle, gets lost in the feeling of strong, thick fingers in his hair and scratching his back to bleeding hell.

“I’m gonna- oh Buck, _Buck_ please- gonna come, g-gonna come for you,” Steve gasps at the end of a particularly forceful thrust.

Nodding, Bucky finds himself moving his right hand to grip Steve’s jaw, “Yeah? You gonna come for me? Do it then Stevie, lemme see it, let me see you come for me,” he’s babbling, close himself, “Be a good boy and come for me yeah? Wanna see it,” because he too feels the heat building in his pelvis, radiating through his bones and making his thrusts erratic. He leans down and captures Steve’s moaning lips in a kiss that’s more of them breathing into each other’s mouth, and it smells like morning breath, so desperately disgusting, but that’s okay because they both want this so bad. Sweat slick bodies jolting together like a wave against a shore or some poetic shit like that, Bucky thinks.

Steve comes first, so there’s that. It feels so good, the clench of his tight asshole on Bucky’s cock, gripping and squeezing as he shudders through it, whimpering and mewling when he’d usually be grunting and groaning loudly, that Bucky can’t even fuck him through it like he would. Instead he stills himself, going rigid as he watches pleasure seize Steve. Only when he’s relaxed again, gone sweet and pliant and quiet, does Bucky resume his thrusts, this time shallower as he forces himself to his knees so that he can watch all that slack, prettiness under him just take, and take, and take. The sight of his cock, thick and veined, entering Steve’s small pink asshole is enough to nearly give him a brain hemorrhage, and when Steve, with his tired eyes closed and voice creaking, says: “Please come inside me. Please I- I wan’ it so bad,” in the most delicious pleading tone Bucky’s ever heard, the heat in his groin finally crescendos into a soul draining orgasm, wringing him completely dry it feels like. He goes rigid, both of his hands finding Steve’s now relaxed thighs and _gripping_ like a fucking lifeline as he rides out his orgasm and practically pulses come into Steve’s lax body.

Rolling off to the side, he collapses onto the bed, only to have Steve scoot towards him and rest his fluffy blonde head on his chest.

“Talk about bang for your Buck,” Steve snorts quietly, “I just wanted a cuddle.”

Bucky, horrified instantly at the play on words, closes his eyes in absolute exhaustion, and not just from the physical activity, “Steve,” he sighs.

Steve says, “I _know_ , I _know_ , that was fucking _gold_ ,” and starts giggling like a child.

And Bucky must fall asleep to the sound, because when he wakes up, it’s to the smell of a mug of coffee being waved precariously under his nose and Steve’s exuberant face as he grins at him.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up-,” he’s chanting gently and Bucky, once again exhausted by this foolishness just rolls his eyes and grabs the mug he’s being offered. Steve beams at him and settles himself to sit on Bucky’s legs, “Sleep well, Beauty?”

“Shut up,” Bucky grunts, “Time?”

“It’s 11:42. I went for a run, there’s eggs and toast in the kitchen, and a load of laundry already in the _dryer_. Looks like I wore you out soldier.”

Bucky just stands, once again, and pulls on a pair of joggers so that he may venture into the depths of their apartment without getting goosebumps on his dick. Steve leads him to the kitchen enthusiastically, and sits him down in his seat, hands him the paper, and deposits an additional glass of orange juice next to his plate to accompany his coffee.

“Good mornin’ doll,” he smiles once he’s got a few good gulps in him.

“Mornin’ to you too,” Steve giggles.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay for fluffy morning sex fluff!!! I hope you enjoyed, comments and kudos are always welcome, and follow me on twitter @nataliabarncs.


End file.
